


A Little Sugar

by AlleiraDayne



Series: Bang Your Head (Metal Health) [16]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adorable Cullen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Confident Cullen, Confident Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Modern Era, Modern Thedas, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6254308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For @valammar, who prompted me with Slow Dancing for Mal and Cullen</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Sugar

If it weren’t for the fact that she was a grown woman, Amallia would have thrown herself on the floor of the hallway in a full-blown tantrum. The entire day had been a disaster – client meeting had gone to shit mid-conversation when the producer inserted himself in the creative process once again, then blamed her for upsetting the client right in front of them, a student called to cancel all future appointments, and Sera was sick; no _APOSTATES!_ practice that evening without the backbone of their rhythm section.

A brief and all too impolite text shot off to Cullen in her haste to leave the studio and she didn’t care if it upset him. Nothing compared to how absolutely abysmal the day had been. If it had only been her producer’s douchebaggery, she would have been able to handle it. But the client had requested she rewrite the entire jingle for their commercial. And in that instant, Amallia decided she might start skipping small contracts to focus on larger, long-term projects.

Heeled boots clomped along the wood floor of the long hallway as she stomped to her door. In her frustration, she dropped her keys as she attempted to unlock it. The stupidest thing over which to become upset, and her age was quickly slipping away as a reason to not fling herself to the floor in a fit. With her head thrown back and teeth gritted in a silent scream, she balled her fists, resisting the urge to do so.

The door swung open and Cullen filled the entry, an empathetic frown turning his lips. When he spotted her keys on the floor, he snatched them up and set them in the bowl beside the door. And then he took her by the hand, leading her in to the entry way where he removed her coat and purse.

“I’m sorry you had such a rough day, pup,” he whispered and the heat of his breath on the shell of her ear eased her tension with a shiver. “There’s a bottle of red wine in the kitchen, ready for you, but I would like a few minutes of your attention first.”

She groaned at the thought of talking about anything at the moment. And he mimicked her with a groan of his own, mocking her frustration.

“Just a couple minutes, I promise,” he pleaded, taking her by the hand once more and leading her to the living room.

Soft music drifted along the hall from the living room, but Amallia couldn’t tell what it was until they rounded the corner. The smooth, velvety voice of Nina Simone crooned _I Want A Little Sugar In My Bowl_ and when Cullen spun her into his embrace, she acquiesced without a word. His left hand cupped her right with a gentle touch, and his right hand – Maker, his entire arm – snaked along her body, fingers splaying at the small of her back to hold her flush against his chest.

Slow revolving steps drifted them along the room in time with the song, each pace ebbing the frustration that coursed through her veins. Earthy and masculine, Amallia buried her nose in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. Her hand slipped from his, both arms wrapping behind his neck. His free hand slipped between her shoulders, holding her to him as if the physical connection between them would drive out every last ounce of her anger.

And it _did_. The warmth of his entire being _pressing_ against hers washed away her pain as if he were the cleansing flames of Andraste. Not a single thing compared to his presence melding with hers, desire replacing the helpless frustration she knew only moments earlier. Cullen had the unique ability to calm her, to soothe any ache or pain she felt, and for that, Amallia was eternally grateful.

As the song ended, Cullen slipped his fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck and leaned back. She found a smoldering gaze in his amber eyes, a hint of what he had in store for her.

“Better?”

A humming moan, Amallia smiled her tight-lipped smile, then said, “ _Much_ better.”

“There’s a hot bath calling our names,” he whispered, voice deep in his chest. “How does that sound?”

“Can we bring the wine with?” she asked, coquettish smile hooking into a smirk as she lead him into the kitchen and grabbed up the bottle of wine.

Cullen gathered the glasses in one hand, the other still in her grasp, and he followed her with eager haste.

“As you wish.”


End file.
